


Slow Breaths

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Primeval
Genre: Community: fandom_stocking, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-06
Updated: 2011-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can you run when you've forgotten how to breathe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Breaths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moekat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=moekat).



> Written for moekat's fandom_stocking.
> 
> Spoilers for _Primeval_ Series 4, Episode 1.
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works.

Connor slid right back in. Like it was easy. Like they'd weekended in the forest and now that he was back he'd have a shower and a coffee and go on as usual.

Sometimes, like tonight, Abby would watch him sleep and wonder how he managed it then wonder why she couldn't. Hunger drove her not to the kitchen but outside to the balcony as if she still had to forage for what she needed. She thought of getting a tomato plant so she'd actually have something to pick when the urge came over her.

She forced herself into the kitchen, marveled at the ease of opening a refrigerator stocked with food and choosing whatever she liked. She'd been staying with simple things, afraid for some reason of changing, but Connor was sticking to his resolution of never again eating another root or tuber. He'd been sick as a dog after his first cheeseburger in a year but his grin said it was worth it.

"Abby?" Connor rounded the corner and stopped in the kitchen door, leaning on the jamb. "Hungry?" His smile brightened when she nodded yes. "I could make you something. Eggs, maybe? You like eggs."

She liked eggs. Past-tense. Now she didn't know what she liked or who she was. "Toast?" she ventured. "And tea?" Normal. Simple. Nothing to jolt her system or startle the tense truce she'd managed with herself.

She perched on a stool at the counter and watched as he warmed the tea pot and measured out the leaves. It always surprised her that he didn't use a microwave but maybe the ritual was comforting to him, something he could do here or there. Lost in thought, she didn't look up again until he slid a mug and plate in front of her. The scent of butter drifted up from her toast and her stomach clenched. Too much, she thought. Too much, too soon.

Connor leaned over the counter and laid his hand over hers. "Abby." He moved the food aside so he could take both her hands in his, rubbing them as if she were cold. She wasn't. Her body was fine, if unaccustomed to modern foods; it was her mind that couldn't handle this.

"I'm okay."

He circled around the counter and stood behind her, wrapping her in his arms. She leaned back into him, remembering the first time she'd done that, then remembering the first time it had meant something other than survival.

"It's going to be all right, Abby."

She wanted to tell him he couldn't know that; that after everything they'd been through he could never really be certain things would be all right. But he'd probably tell her that after living for a year in the Cretaceous they could do anything, then go find a dinosaur to do battle with for her honor. Of course, she'd have to tell him what kind of dinosaur it was and list all its weaknesses first, before he foolishly charged in and got himself killed, but that was how they worked. Or maybe it was why they worked.

She picked up the toast, aware of Connor stilling behind her.

"It's cold, Abby, let me make you some more," he said.

"No. This is good." And after her third bite she realized it was. This nothing, this piece of bread, burnt slightly on one side, it was good. Connor didn't move or speak again until she'd finished both pieces and drank half her tea. Then she felt him expel a great sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath. They both had been, she realized, in one way or another, him afraid to startle her when she was so fragile, and her afraid to even breathe in the air of this world so that she wouldn't miss it so much the next time it was taken away from her.

"Maybe tomorrow you could make me some eggs," she said.

"I could make them now."

He started to move away from her, heading toward the stove, and she stopped him with a hand on his waist. "Tomorrow, Connor. Right now I want to go to sleep."

Together. With no one having to keep watch, waiting for either danger or rescue. With no one waiting for anything except for the breakfast they'd have long after the sun rose.

She took his hand in hers and gave it a tug, then took off sprinting for their bedroom, for the first time in a year running toward something instead of away.


End file.
